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I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. I 

jL JMeM ,fi..l... 

# I 

f UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, i 




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im 






ODES 



AND 



otS&ek ip^MS 



Printed by Walker and Greig. 
Edinburgh. 






***** ODES 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



By JOHN qiBSON. 



EDINBURGH : 



PRINTED FOR FAIRBAIRN & ANDERSON, 

55. NORTH BRIDGE-STREET J 

AND TAYLOR & HESSEY, 93. FLEET- STREET, 

LONDON. 

1818. 



a 



TO 

WALTER SCOTT, Esq. 

THIS VOLUME 

is 

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 

BY 

THE AUTHOR. 

Edinburgh, 6th July 1818. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Ode to Time 9 

Lines to , 15 

Ode to the Sun, 17 

Ode to Health, 25 

Lines to , 30 

Ode to the Moon, 52 

Lines to Miss , 40 

Ode to Friendship, 45 

Ode to a Fountain, 62 

To my Mother, 66 

Elegy on Robert Gray, 15 

Speech of the Dying Indian, 95 

The Desperant to a Friend, 98 

The Splenetic's Complaint, 102 

To War, „ 104 



ODES, &c. 



ODE TO TIME. 

Would it avail to coast the farthest main ; 
Ransack its cells, and dark unfathom'd reign ; 
Explore the realms and records mortals know ; 
Dissolve the barriers of the world below ; 
Or scale the skies where angels dwell sublime, 
In hope to learn thy origin, O Time ? 



10 ODES, &C. 

Didst thou begin when heavenly wrath o'erthrew 
The rebel Satan, and his rebel crew ? — v 
When raving winds to barren chaos sung ? — 
When ocean, sky, and earth, from chaos sprung ? — 
When first Euphrates lav'd his silver sand ? — 
When first green Eden crown'd the smiling land ? 
No ; — thou wert old ere man in Eden trod, 
Or angels hymn'd their orisons to God ! 

4 What arm constructed of the mould'ring clay 
Shall mar thy movements, or eclipse thy sway ? 
Hast thou a moment furl'd thy airy wings 
To hear the prayer, or do the will o£ kings ? 

As oft we pause to trace the bypast scene, 
And muse on days and wonders that have been ; 



ODES, &C. 11 

On dauntless chiefs who quell'd ambition's flood 
With gushing veins, and garments roll'd in blood ; 
On bards who, cloth'd in garb of heav'nly fire, 
Awak'd with mortal hand the immortal lyre ; 
What painful thoughts shall rouse the patriot sigh ; 
What floods of woe shall drown the pensive eye ; 
When all our pond'rings to the mind recal, 
That sage, and bard, and warrior must fall ! 

What though the maid implore thy regal power, 
To send on tardy wings the rending hour 
When that true heart, love-moulded with her own, 
Must brave the billows of a distant zone ! 
Yet heedless to the prayer, and heavenward hand, 
I see thy wings in wonted flight expand. 



12 ODES, &C. 

What though the pris'ner tremble from his soul 
To hear the end of life's last ev'ning toll ; 
Should shrink to see approach his lonely reign 
The bark that sails Eternity's domain ; 
To hear, when dreary midnight moans around, 
The clanking axe against his scaffold sound ; 
Or through his bars, at misty dawn to see 
His platform rear'd, and long black gallows tree; 
And bend his knee — uplift his eyes and pray, 
" Delay the hour ! delay ! O Time, delay !" 
All, all in vain ; — his prayer unheard ascends — 
The hour is near — the gazing crowd attends — 
He comes ! he comes ! — What eye but thine can bear 
To mark unmov'd the victim of despair — 



ODES, &C 13 

His trembling knee — his priest-supported frame — 
Consumptive cheek — his dark eye's deaden'd flame ! 
His face is veil'd — the veil (O hideous show!) 
Has barr'd his sight for aye on all below. 
The tumbling platform sinks with stunning swell — • 
The sexton shuddering tolls his passingbell — 
His corse is tomb'd — and now thy wing's career 
Waves o'er his body in the silent bier. 

O man ! while riding on life's narrow wave, 
One side presents thy birth, and one thy grave ; — 
The wave is subject to the ocean's power ; 
Thy life is subject to the passing hour ! 

Ev'n these firm vales — these seas that mock the sight — 
These haughty rocks— these hills of giant might, 



14* ODES, &C. 

And all yon stars that stud the azure sheen, 

Shall pass away as they had never been. 

But while bold clouds of elemental flame 

In ruin sink this great and glorious frame ; 

When earth's last hour-glass to a sand has run, 

Immortal soul ! thy morn is but begun : 

Then shall thy restless pinions take their flight 

To regions wrapt in an eternal night ; 

Or far to temples bath'd in heavenly dew, 

Where angels sing, and thou, O Time ! art ever new. 



ODES, &C. 15 



TO 

1. 
Behold yon pure and lovely Queen, 
That glads the wond'ring gazer's eye, 
And rides resplendent and serene 
Along the star-bespangled sky ! 

2. 
But mark yon dark and freezing cloud 
That onward bears its baleful flight, 
And hastes to wrap in raven shroud 
The Queen that gems the brow of night. 



16 ODES, &C. 

3. 
So, maid, while now thy mind is young, 
While Virtue breathes her accents there, 
And angel truth adorns thy tongue, 
Thou like the ev'ning Queen art fair. 

4. 
But ah ! I mark the countless foes 
On thee, a stainless saint, would prey ; 
Would leave remorse where virtue glows, 
And cloud the peace that gilds thy day. 



ODES, &C. 17 



ODE TO THE SUN. 

1. 
What time, O kingly sun ! thy summer form, 
Bedeck' d in dazzling glorious stole, looks forth 
From thy gold-wove pavilion in the East, 
To cheer a mournful world, 

2. 
Awaken' d from the downy-pillow'd couch 
Of dreary sleep, while yet his magic rod 
O'erhangs the sluggish tribe, then let me seek 
The silent wild retreat. 



18 ODES, &C. 

s. 

Be it yon smooth green hill, whose velvet side 
A woody zone enclasps, which lib'ral throws 
Its scented umbrage o'er the chrystal rill 
That rolls in tuneful tone. 

4. 
There stretch'd on yon tall promontory's peak, 

Whose fair blue base contracts to narrow bounds 

The shelved urn of the thready white cascade, 

Oft let me musing lye, 

5. 

And turning to the billowy firmament, 
Through the green screen of overshading trees, 
Behold thy busy arm at powerful work 
In that ethereal sea : — 



ODES, &C. 19 

6. 

See, wounded at thy touch, the wavy clouds 
Withdraw their muffled heads and melt to air ; 
The sky enraptur'd rear an ample arch 
Of mild and cloudless blue — 

7. 
Or watch the daisy ope her yellow eye, 
Shelter'd beneath its fringe of purple hem ;— 
The cowslip's silken salver lift to thee 

A draught of diamond dew ; — 
8. 
Or hear the feather'd choir attune the chords 
Of varied warbling melody, and frame 
A matin hymn, as thou from stream and lake 

Receiv'st the daily gift. 



20 ODES, &C. 

9. 
There, as I turn mine eye adown the vale, 
And see the thin blue smoke ascending weave 
A mantle dim above the distant town, 
Deep solemn thought shall rise ; 

10. 
And as I, stretch'd at ease, hear not the hum 
Of buzzing men, (more distant then the better) 
Shall lend an eye to trace the shifting hues 
Of motley-painted life : — 

U. 

The weight of empire wounded by the arm 

Of weak ambition — the efficient spring 
Of human deeds — the various laws and rules 
Of the dark mental court. 



ODES, &C, 21 

12. 

And oft shall the romantic muse approach 
On balmy wing — the breath of rowan red — 
The rush of rill — the pipe of early bird — 
Shall woo the darling maid, 

13. 
Who swift on fancy's wing shall bear me far, 

To seek the lone, the brown, the stream-cleft dell— 

To stray beside the slimy, pine-bound lake 

Of drear, witch'd, nodding tower; — 

14. 
To pierce the lower bounds, and view disclos'd 
The green green vales, clear rills, and shady bowers, 
The sunny hills, and harmless lively sports 
Of all the elfin world ;— 



22 ODES, &C. 

15. 
To pierce the bosom of the ocean's wave ;— 
Explore the wonders of the finny race ; — 
The palace of the merman rear'd aloft 
Amid the coral fields ; — 

16. 
To wrap me in a robe of wand'ring mist ; — 
To sit upon the shelf of some high cloud ; — 
To swing upon the pinions of the wind, 
And rule at will the storm ; — 

17. 
To roam athwart thy regions, distant sun ! 

To mark the glories of the fixed stars ; — 

The bloomy vales, green trees, the golden walls, 

And topaz towers of heaven. 

24 



ODES, &c. 23 

IK 

But should the grave, sublime, and moral muse 
Demand an audience, then, thou Sun, farewell ! 
Farewell thou calm retreat, for other scenes 
Shall call my daring steps ! 

19. 
Thenhail! all hail! thou frowning grim-brow' d mount, 
Whose hairless scalp is ever glooming rocks, 
Where desolation thrones, where foxes howl, 
And hungry ravens scream. 

20. 
What time the low'ring wat'ry cloud condens'd 
Right onward moves to meet its fiery foe, 
And man and beast the awful conflict dreading, 
To strongest shelter flee ;— « 



24 ODES, &C. 

21. 
What time the bursting sluices of the sky- 
Volley in subtle bolts the fateful flame, 
And thundering to the vale the smitten cliff 
From thy rude head descends ; — 

22. 
What time the furrowing furies rend thy sides, 
Hurl the blue eagle from his eyry high, 
And threaten to a groaning rocking world 
Annihilation's horror 

23. 
Perch'd on the summit's point, that muse beside 

To prompt the strain, I'd tune the deep-ton d lyre„ 

And sweep its strings in high immortal strains, 

Respondent ta the storm. 



ODES, &c. 25 



ODE TO HEALTH, 

L 

Maid of the garb of green, 

Fair form, and stately mien, 
Round zone, red cheek, and eyeball darkly bright, 

Sweet Health ! to thee alone 

The magic lore is known 
That daunts dull care, and bids the thoughts be light. 



26 ODES, &c. 

2. 

Not near the midnight ball, 

The feast of Bacchanal, 
Or aguey marsh thou lovest to abide ; 

But near the dark blue main, 

Green hill or tufted plain, 
Where pure-breath'd breezes waft their genial tide. 

3. 

Oft in the glassy wave 

Thou lov'st thy limbs to lave 
When summer clothes in foliage green the wood ; 

And oft we mark thy face 

Amid the nimble chase 
Though bleak November chain the mountain flood. 



ODES, &c. 27 

4. 

The hot breeze of the south, 

The east's more harmful growth, 
Or northern gale that chills the raging firth, 

Brings no alarm to thee ; 

Nor shakes thy sinewy knee ; 
Nor rouses spleen ; nor dries the fount of mirth. 

5. 

Thou aid'st the warrior's hand 

To whirl the fateful brand 
When vulture war calls rav'ning tribes to meet ; 

And fancy's wing to soar 

Beyond earth's bounded shore 
When on her child thou shower'st thy favours sweet. 



28 ODES, &c. 

6. 

From thee alone comes stealing 

The sweetly-pleasing feeling 
That kindles pure and warm the lover's flame ; — 

The mounting blood that streaks 

The maiden's rosy cheeks, 
And speaks the love her lips refuse to name. 

7. 
Where'er thy kindness fails 

How many a fiend assails ! 

Weak peevishness with friends and foes at strife— 
And melancholy's hand 
That tempts the murd'rous brand 

To cut the thread — the feeble thread of life. 



ODES, &c. 29 

8. 

O, to thy rural bower 

With roses cover d o'er 
Admit me, Health ! a member of thy train : 

What prayers will he bestow 

Whom fell diseases bow 
To reach the highest bliss on earth's domain ! 



30 ODES, &c. 



TO 



1. 

My Love ! when duty draws thee nigh, 
Or chance brings on a meeting, 

My paly cheek, and languid eye, 
Bespeak my bosom's beating. 

2. 
My fault'ring tongue in flowing words 

Performs no more its duty ; 

Warm feeling melts concealment's cords. 

And owns the charm of beauty. 



odes, &c. SI 

3. 
The longer Love ! I bear thy spell 

That form becomes the dearer ; 

The oft'ner I must heave — " Farewell" — 

Each time the pang's severer. 

4. 
But by thy kiss — by thy keen grasp — 

Thy look — thy pulse quick-starting — 
Thy bosom's beat — thy close warm clasp— 

Thy sighs — thy tears at parting — 

5. 
I hope a time (O then my heart 

May beat without controul) 
When thou shalt bloom my wedded part— 

My second heart, and soul. 



32 ODES, &c. 



ODE TO THE MOON. 



1. 

Thou beauteous Orb ! benignly bright ! 
Thou Sun of ev'ning's darksome sway, 
Who deck'st his realms in fairest light* 
And bring'st to man a better day ! 

2. 
Again before thy holy face, 

Benignant form ! I bend the knee ; 
Again I mark thy beams embrace 
The haughty hill, and humble lea. 



ODES, &C, 33 



3. 
Again I mark the waveless lake 
Reflect thy form of lovely pale ; 
Again I mark thee gild the brake, 
Again, thou modest stranger— hail ! 

4. 
For him who seeks the bed of sleep 
Though no delight thy beauties bring, 
Nor yet for him who seeks to reap 
Delight where midnight revels ring ; 

5. 

Yet oft at eve, beneath thy gleam 
The youthful poet forth shall fare 
To seek alone the haunted stream, 



And muse with thee and Silence there. 

-. 



34* ODES, &c. 

6. 

Or climb the wild sequester'd hill 
Where fairies held their ev'ning round, 
And hear anew, beside the rill, 
Their thrilling pipes romantic sound ; 

7. 
Or see their bands bedight in green 

Now thread the dance, or spurring fly 

On milky steeds whose trappings sheen 

Beam gold against the twilight sky. 

8. 
Pale Sorrow oft beneath thy reign 
Shall seek alone the silent glade ; 
And wooers hie in hopeful strain 
To seek the sacred beechen shade. 



ODES, &c. 35 

9. 

And saintly Thought shall raise his head 
To mark with holy wild delight 
Each little twinkling golden bead 
That decks the solemn breast of night* 

10. 

Then oft let me allied to care 
Recline beneath the rowan tree, 
Pursue thy baseless path in air, 
And hymn the song of praise to thee. 

11. 

O could I pierce yon cloudlet's flow, 

Hise through the blue horizon far, 

Desert a world where life is woe, 

And reach, sweet orb, thy distant star ! 



36 ODES, &c. 

12. 
But now within some tented vale 
Thy tribes may meet in murd'rous gloom ; 
And now the thund'ring cannon peal, 
And now the death-wing'd bullet boom ! 

• 13. 

Not so, thou orb ! methinks thy mien 
Bespeaks to man some world of peace ; — 
Some world where spirits fly unseen 
When death bids care and trouble cease :^— 

14. 
A world where blooms eternal spring ; 
Where flows health's youth-reviving rill ; 
Where Eden's cheering songsters sing ; 
Where amber clouds their dews distil. 



ODES, &c. 37 

15. 

Roll on, fair orb ! and gild my night 

While wand'ring through this dark sojourn ; 
Thou know'st I still have deem'd thy light 
More fair than all the glow of morn. 

16. 
Thou know'st to mark thy beauties fall 
How oft I seek the blasted oak, 
The sombre wood, the mould'ring wall, 
The mountain, cairn, and rugged rock ; 

17. 
And tread the bare sepulchral mound, 

The russet moor from man exiled, 

Or stand beside the thund'ring sound 

Of torrent foaming white and wild ; 



38 ODES, &c. 

18. 

While, stunning midnight's sullen ear 
Are heard the boding hooting owl, 
The flitting bat 'mong tombstones drear ; 
The eagle's scream— the fox's howl. 

19. 
And let them fear who trembling tell 

That wizard wan, or shrouded ghost, 
Or murd'rous fiend let loose from hell, 
At ev'ning roams this upper coast. 

20. 
Yes ; let them fear — beneath thy gleam 
I oft have felt a holier glow 
Than sun-rays glitt'ring on the stream 
Can to the pensive soul bestow. 



ODES, &c. 39 

21. 
Then roll, fair orb ! and gild my night 
While wand'ring through this dark sojourn ; 
I still shall deem thy modest light 
More fair than all the glow of morn. 



40 ODES* &c. 



TO MISS 



1. 

No Laura ! no ! I cannot lie. 

Thy form, in truth, is not divine ; 
Nor yet that kindly-beaming eye 
The gem that gilds Golconda's mine. 

2. 
The locks that play around thy head 
Are not the threads of golden glow ; 
Thy cheeks are not the roses red ; 
Thy brow is not the drifted snow. 



ODES, &C. 41 

3* 

Thy lips are not carnations wet 

And pearl'd with morning's dews around ; 

Thy mouth is not with iv'ry set, 

Thy voice is not the silver sound. 

4. 
Thy breath is not the swathes of hay 

New cut, and casting odours bland ; 

Nor yet the balmy gales that stray 

On rich Panehaia's rosy strand, 

5. 
No female fay from fairy band, 

No queen from ether's starry brow, 

No angel form from heavenly land, 

Nor more than mortal maid art thou. 



42 ODES, &c. 

6. 
Excuse the speech — I know thou dost. 

The fulsome strain would wound thine ear* 
The praise each poet's She can boast, 
I would not give — thou wouldst not hear. 

7. 
No, Laura ! no ! such wordy show 

Would meet like scorn thy piercing eyes, 
And in thy love would sink me low- 
Even there where I have wish'd to rise. 

8. 
Nor ask, abash'd, thy noble mind, 

" What praises then remain for me ?" 

For praise, and praise of richest kind, 

My Laura ! rests in store for thee. 



ODES, &C. 43 

9. 

Immortal power did ne'er design 
The form divine for mortal frames ; 
But thine to me is more divine 
Than her's whom earth divinest names. 

10. 
And then thy mind, — if mine had view'd 
One single grace a stranger there, 
It had not sued as it has sued, 
But scorn'd the love it seeks to share. 

11. 
I cannot, maid ! with curses heap 

My simple praise, — nor cringing kneel, — ■ 

Nor breathe the vow I cannot keep, — 

Nor feign the flame I do not feel. 



44? OD£S,'&e. 

12. 
I do not give the lock of hair, 
The golden ring, or silken glove, 
Or dress to raise the rival's care, 
To tell how great — -how warm my love* 

13. 
To tell that tale I'd scorn to give 
The gift that any's gold may buy ; 
Or yet the gift that shall not live 
When gold is dust, and earth shall die. 

U. 
I give what gold can never buy — 

A gift shall live though earth depart ; 

I give, (O were the gift more high !..) 

Accept it thou — it is my heart ! 



ODES, &c. 45 



ODE TO FRIENDSHIP. 

O who will join with me, 
Will wear the pilgrim's shell, 
Ransack the world for thee, 
And find the secret cell 
Where thou art fled to dwell ! 

From yonder spiry town 
We'll keep the distant way ; 
For long thy feet have flown 
Its streets in pale dismay ; 



46 ODES, &c. 

The envious look of the fair one's eye 
As she sees a fairer rival nigh, 
The iron strength of the portal's bar, 
The grated jail with its guarded wall, 
The judge's bench, and the watchman's call 
Say thou hast fled them far. 

What time the merle from her thorny nest 

Salutes the yellow dawn, 
We'll seek thee where the lowing cattle rest 

In the eyebright-tissued lawn. 
We'll seek- thee in the shade of the beechen hedge, 

In the woodbine's blossom'd bower ; 
We'll seek thee by the rill in the groves of sedge 

Where the chequer'd teal-drakes cower. 



ODES, &C. *? 

But should our eager care 
Not mark thy foot-prints there, 
We'll seek thee in the badger's lone retreat 

In the caves of the hazel wood ; — 
In the moor where the white-wing'd plovers meet, 

And the rock o'erhangs the flood. 
We'll seek thee in the green and the ferny dell 

Where the dew-drop twinkles clear ; — 
In the high bare hill where the heather-bell 

Reigns hermit of the year. 
We'll seek thee in the nook of the mazy glen 

Where foot has never trod ; 
We'll seek thee in the tawny fox's den, 

And the eagle's wild abode. 



48 ODES, &c. 

What time the waning moon 
Oars through the waves of any 
We'll seek the wild lagoon, 
Where the hawk and the hern repair ; 
And round whose dreary, dark, and rocky brim 
The cheering flowers of spring refuse to blow, 
And nought but tufts of heath, in widow'd trim, 
High on the cliff's rude top is seen to grow, 
Or stunted thorn with rotting hairless brow 
When earth puts off its robe of ling'ring snow : 
And there behind the blue and shaggy rock 
We'll stand like sentinels on searching gaze, 
And cast our eye around the dol'rous maze, 
And still in wailing tones thy form invoke 
To leave the dreary scene, if thou art there* 
The darkest nook shall not be left unsought. 



ODES, &c. 49 

And though our bed be oft the mountain bare, 
Our sheets the fern by Nature's fancy wrought, 
Our lamp the moon of pale November's sky — 
No soul on earth to watch around our head, 
Nought near except the dun fox flisking by 
That scenting tracks the lambkin's hapless tread, 
We'll scorn cold watchings on the dewy ground, 
And find thee out, if thou on earth may'st yet be 
found. 

Lo ! Envy rolls her hollow serpent balls,, 
And squirts her pois'nous deadly wrath around ! 
Pale fretting wretch ! the lucky lot that falls 
To other men inflicts her deepest wound ; 
Defeat, that blots the warrior's brightest fame, 
Disease, that wastes the child to parents dear, 



50 ODES, &c. 

The rival's death, the sullied beauty's shame, 
Are sounds that charm, O doubly charm her ear ! 
Dread wretch ! of direful mood, 
For good to her is ill, and ill is good : 
And deep deceit whose blooming look 
Is seeming kind to all, and free from wile, 
But whose dark rotten heart no eye can brook — 
That Syren form that lures but to beguile : 
And murder driving on her spear-set car, 
That, blood-polluted, spares nor sex nor age, 
But breeds domestic, private, public war, 
Inflames the truth-abandon'd wretch in rage 
To lift his arm in parricidal deed 
Against a loving father's hoary head : 
And jealousy, that bids the blinded spouse 
Despite the bond of matrimonial vows, 



ODES, &C. 51 

Lift up the arm against his wedded part, 

And quench his wrath in her blood-streaming heart : 

All these, and myriads more, a fiendish train, 

Rage loud, and rend with woe thy former fair domain. 

O come ! in glory come ! 

O shew thy glowing eye ! 

O strike the traitors dumb ! 

O force their bands to fly ! 
At thy approach, methinks, in guilty fear, 
Their murd'rous ghastly train will fleet away 
As hosts of clouds, when winter chills the year, 
Fleet off before the red sun's rising ray. 
Then youth and pleasure, sporting hand in hand, 
Shall tune the pipe beneath the poplar-tree ; 



52 ODES, &c. 

And clothed in dew-bath'd flowers, the village band 
Shall thread the dance where moonlight gilds the lea. 
O'er ev'ry clime of all this aching globe, 
Then, Friendship ! then unfurl thy snowy robe 1 
Let loose the doves that bear its peaceful train ! 
And then, unfearing harm, the vent'rous keel, , 
Devoid of thund'ring gun, or murd'rous steel, 
Shall cleave the foam of oceans farthest plain. 

Thou com'st ! — The kingdom's kings I see 

In tribute justly due to thee, 

An iv'ry palace found 

(Mark ! mark !) in yonder pleasing lea 

A smooth green mountain northward hems around. 

Around that mountain's verdant side 

The spotless lambkins bleating play, 



ODES, &c. 53 



And groves of rainbow- chequer'd pride . 
Perfume its top with endless May ; 
Around its base the clust'ring vine 
Extends in many a stately row, 
And spreads the grape's empurpling shine 
To meet the sun's maturing glow ; 
From out its front an hundred springs 
Upstarting fling a bev'rage clear ; 
They join, and hark ! a riv'let sings 
That draws the wond'ring flocks to hear. 
And now that riv'let raves, and leads 
Its furious foaming waves away 
Where silv'ry birch o'er-arching spreads, 
And bars the sun's bescorching ray ; 
And now it steals in silent strain 
Across a green and ferny plain ; 



54* ODES, &c* 

Now mines a deep and silent pool — 
A chrystal laver clear and cool, 
Infring'd with many a violet flower 

That drinks the dew at ev'ning's hour ; 

Now bursts away with louder swell 
Adown a dun and haz'ly dell ; 
Now stretching broad in chasten'd guise 
To where thy castle's walls arise 
It sweeps their base, and bears away 
In murm'ring, soft, meandering play ; 
And winding through a flow'ry mead 
Where snowy flocks the frolic lead 
It fills a smooth transparent lake, 
O'er whose blue waves the alders shake, 
And form at sultry noon a fan 
To cool the sweetly-singing swan 



ODES, &c. 55 



What time she cleaves with stately prow, 
And yellow oar, their chrystal flow. 

But, O ! that castle passing fair ! 
What artful wonders open there ! 
What tall Corinthian spires unfold ! 
What iv'ry turrets edg'd with gold ! 
What height of long broad colonnade ! 
What wealth of fretted rich arcade ! 
A glowing glorious peristyle 
To deck the favoured British isle ! 
How fair the fronton eyes the day ! 
What beauteous forms in sculpture gay, 
Above the portal's lordly arch, 
Delightful, mild, and friendly perch I 

25 



56 odes, kc. 

There join'd, (O lovely !) hand in hand 

The warring Gaul and Briton stand 

Encircling faith (so late abus'd) 

Whose cheek with glowing smiles suffus'd, 

Whose lifted head and kindling eye 

Bespeak her breast in ecstacy 

To see the nations cast away 

The sword, the spear, the assagay ; 

Enamour'd kiss her sceptre o'er, 

And swear to own her sway for evermore. 

What various winding vistas wend 
Through groves that round thy walls extend ! 
What alleys cloth'd in youthful green, 
A fairy, flow'ry, sylvan scene ! 



ODES, &c. 57 



Lo ! there in ev'ry fair retreat, 
What busts rever'd the vision meet ! 
The Dey, devoid of vengeful grief 
Is plac'd by England's conq'ring chief, 
And carv'd in earth's most precious stone. 
Napoleon smiles to Wellington* 

But O ! that castle's inward sight ! 

There rapture glows with true delight. 

Instead of sculpture's finest mould, 

Or painted canvass broad unroll'd, 

The breathing rival chiefs appear, 

And shake the hand in kindly cheer ; 

And envoys sent from ev'ry land, 

Who bear the peaceful olive wand, 

And Friendship ! thou who rul'st the band* 



58 ODES, &c. 

Slave, lord, and monarch, join the train ! 

Sure Saturn's golden age bears sway on earth again 1 

And lo ! the glitt'ring casements nigh 

Unfolding, woo the dazzl'd eye. 

Come, Friendship ! come ! thine arm I crave ; 

Thine, Indian ! born by Ganges wave ; 

And thine, thou Foulah ! once a slave 

Beyond the raging western main. 

Come view the southern landscape's treasure I 

Share the pleasure ! share the pleasure ! 

O the sweet romantic scene ! 

Ha ! behold the garden pied, 
Gurgling rill, and sloping mead, 
Scented grove, and glassy lake, 
Dewy lawn, and cooling brake, 



ODES, &c. 69 



Sporting colt, and frisking lamb, 
Fearless hare, and harmless ram, 
Tow'ring steeple, hazel wood, 
Distant ocean's azure flood, 
Yellow-blossom' d woodbine trees, 
Apples nodding in the breeze, 
Shooting through their leafy screen 
Cheek of red, and cheek of green ! 
Tell me, comrades ! tell me true ! 
If aught that lies in Ganges' view., 
Aught in spicy Malabar, 
Aught in Persia's plains afar, 
Aught in China's vales of green, 
Shews a fairer sweeter scene ! 

What cheering tones salute mine ear ! 
Mark ! mark ! a dancing band appear,- 



60 ODES, &c. 

A kindly olive-bearing train ; 
To gladsome pipes it trips along. 
The turban'd chiefs of Ispahan, 
The swarthy sons of Indostan, 
The wand'ring tribes of Tombuctoo, 
The fair plum'd clans of rich Peru, 
Approach thy shrine, — halloo ! halloo ! 

Behold ! before the eastern gate 

Thy mossy altar smokes in state. 

How sweet the scents of nard and myrrh arise J 

Meet, charm, and mount the lofty wond'ring skies. 

Fair sight ! each tribe with it to bear 

A tithe of all that gems its country's year— 



. 1 



ODES, &C. 61 

A gift by all agreed for thee to save ! 
And now, ev'n now, from all thy turrets, spy 
Each nation's ensigns, to the sky 
In kindest union wave ! 



62 ODES, &c. 



ODE TO A FOUNTAIN. 

1. 
Thou little sweet and gurgling spring, 

How fair thy chrystal waters rise ! 

How blithe they bound away, and fling 

A gleam that cheers my weary eyes ! 

2. 
The pilgrim still, in summer's glow 

When clouds of dust obscure the sky, 

And starting sweat bedews his brow, 

Is joy'd to mark thy bounty nigh. 



ODES, &c. 63 

3. 
The school-boy wending home at eve 
When weak with sportive gaming toil, 
Still leaves his nearest path to reave 
Sweet fount! from thee the healthful spoil. 

4. 
The hunter too, beside thy brim, 

When rings the chace o'er moor and lea, 

Still bends his sweat-distilling limb, 

And drinks, full glad, new life from thee. 

5. 
The green thatch'd cot that glimmers fair 
Through rows of birch in yonder vale, 
Still sends the maid of auburn hair 
To fill from thee her beechen pail. 



64 ODES, &C. 

6. 
And still in yonder nobler dome 
That crowns the park of playful deer, 
Thou add'st to wealth a fresher bloom, 
And light'st the vase with lively cheer, 

7. 
But not thy waves alone are sweet, 

Though still the panting heart they cheer ; 

For still thy constant warblings greet, 

And charm the careless wand'rer's ear : 

8, 
And still they draw the shepherd boy, 

Who, wrapt within his chequer'd plaid, 

Sinks down to sleep's Elysian joy 

Beneath thy shading alders' shade. 



ODES, &c. 65 

9. 
Though dog-days breathe their burning rage, 
And scorch the plain with blasting rule, 
In vain with thee a war they wage ; — 
Thy equal waves are ever cool. 

10. 

O thus could man, when passion's wrath 

Would blast the power of reason's reign, 
But feel unharm'd her baleful breath, 
And bid the fury burn in vain i 



66 ODES, &C* 



TO MY MOTHER. 

1. 

now that scene of truth is o'er ! — 

Now five long years have tomb'd the day 
When I, to sainted Mary's shore 
Attended sad, thy lifeless clay. 

2. 
But still with keen reverting eye 

1 mark the mournful-moving band ; 
And mark the black hearse nodding high 
Beside the wildly-solemn strand. 






ODES, &C. 6? 

3. 

And still I mark the dashing wave, 
And hear anew the sounding spade 
That wrapt the turf above the grave — 
The lonely grave where thou art laid. 

4. 
And still I see thee borne from where 
Thou long didst much-lov'd mistress reign; 
And mournful kindred shed the tear 
O'er thee they ne'er should see again. 

5. 
I hear thy infant daughter sigh 

While seated on thy sister's knee ; 

Forget thy death, and name her by 

The lov'd endearing name of thee. 



6& ODES, &C* 

6. 

O beauteous shine in mem'ry's page 
Thy spotless deeds, thy spotless heart ! 
For wisely thou, from early age, 
Like Mary chose the better part. 

7. 
To thee the wand'rers poor and lame 

Still came, and found a friendly stay : 

Though many cold and hung'ring came, 

None cold and hung'ring went away. 

8. 
And still, when round the cottage flame 
The poor man's friends are number' d o'er, 
All sigh, and name thy hallow'd name, 
And say, " A best friend lives no more." 



ODES, &c* 69 

And not the friend of blood alone 

Has sought thy grave with throbbing heart ; 

For all to thee a kindred own 

Who know how kind and good thou wert. 

10. 
There youthful Mirth's exulting face 
Has check'd, abash'd, the thoughtless smile, 
And Pity come, in modest grace, 
To wet with tears thy holy pile. 

11. 
O oft when eve, at Autumn's tide, 
Unrolls her robe of solemn grey, 
And spreads its folds of silky pride 
To rest above thy honour'd clay ; 



70 odes, &e. 

12. 
Or oft when Mary's limpid wave 
Reflects at noon, with friendly glow, 
From yonder hill thy mouldering grave, 
That then shall seem in worlds below ; 

13. 
Although unmark'd by thee may ring 
The wild-fowl's notes along the shore, 
And waves against its sides that swing 
Their crested lengths with sullen roar ; 

U. 
Then oft shall I alone repair, 
And stretch'd beside thy body lie. 
Till potent fancy picture there 
Thy holy spirit hov'ring nigh ; 



ODES, &C. 71 

15. 

And hear it talk of life-— of death — 
Of days that were — of days to be — 
The viewless spirit's awful path 
In regions of eternity. 

16. 
The fam'ly sit beside the blaze, 

But, O, a seat is empty now ! 

Where stays its head ? O long she stays ! 

Come, mother ! come ! why waitest thou ? 

17. 
Alas ! — Could tears or woes befriend, — 

Make that cold corse put off its mask, — 

And live, all other cares should end, 

And these become our only task ! 



72 ODES, &c. 

18. 
Yet why recal from climes above, 
Although in grief our bosoms bleed ! 
Twere grudging thee the beams of love 
That play around thy sainted head. 

19. 
Could love invite thy wings to leave, 
And change for life's rough rugged way 
The land that knows no falling eve — 
The land where peace and pleasure play 1 

20. 
Beyond the bounds of earthly bars r 
Beyond the burnish'd lunar road, 
Beyond the sun, beyond the stars, 
Thy soul has found a fair abode. 



ODES, &c. 73 

21. 
But O ! if still with kind intent 

From climes unknown to mortal ken 

Departed souls are daily sent 

To straight the froward ways of men ; 

22. 
Then though thou live by rills belov'd, 
And roam by life's unfading tree, 
In pathless distance far remov'd; 
O oft descend to counsel me ! 

23. 
When truth would bend to int'rest's sway, 
Or reason stoop to erring will, 
Be near to calm the wild affray, 
And guard my mind from evry ill. 

E 



74 OBES, &c. 

24. 
And ! if now the book of fate 
Is all unroird before thine eye, 
Methinks thou there wilt search my state ; 
And should thine eager care espy 

25. 
A single sin recorded there 

To mar in bliss my future lot, 

Thoul't plead with God who loves to spare, 

From out that book the sin to blot. 

26. 
Then though thou live by rills belov'd, 
And roam by life's unfading tree 
In pathless distance far remov'd, 
I still shall feel thy love for me. 



ODES, &c. 75 



ELEGY ON ROBERT GRAY. 

1. 

Amid the dames that deck our town 
A dame is deck'd in mournful clothes ; 
Alas ! that dame's whole joy is flown. 
And ev'ry sight of joy she loathes ; 
Yet I have seen that dame as gay 
As school-boy on a holiday. 



76 ODES, &c. 

2. 

Within our town she had a cot, 
Around whose lattice bow would twine 
In many a little wanton knot 
The woodbine, and the eglantine ; 
But now around that lattice bow — 
No eglantine nor woodbine grow* 

3. * 
Before that cot there was a scene 

That caught full oft the passer's eye ; 
It was a pleasing spot of green 
Divided most enchantingly 
In many a little gay parterre 
Of semicircle and of square. 



ODES, &G. 77 

4. 
And in these gay parterres the rose, 
Sweet-william, mint, and daisy grew : 
Full oft have I at' twilight's close 
From off their leaflets dash'd the dew : 
Full oft have watch' d their flowers expand 
To greet the sun when morn has dawnd ! 

5. 
But now across its white- wash'd pale 

The pausing passer leans no more ; 
No flow'rets now their scents exhale 
To charm his fancy as before : 
All, all in languor droop the head.: 
Alas ! that sweet spot's life is fled, 



78 ODES, &c. 

6. 
In our churchyard three months ago, 

A grave of four feet length was made : 

Around that grave no grass will grow ; 

And oft the sexton, o'er his spade 

Has told, that there, each morn, the sward 

With new foot-prints is trampled hard, 

7. 
Around our town a rumour flies, 

That oft, ev'n in the starless night, 

And when no moon illumes the skies, 

Through the deep duskiness of night, 

A white-rob'd spirit there appears, 

Whose moan the lated maiden hears. 



ODES, &c. 79 

8. 
No ghost is that which frights our town.— 
Tis she bedeck'd in widow's clothes ; 
Tis she whose ev'ry joy is flown ; 
'Tis she each sight of joy who loathes ; 
'Tis she whom I have seen as gay 
As school-boy on a holiday : 

'Tis she around whose lattice bow 
The woodbine and the eglantine 
Have ceas'd their wanton knots to throw ; 
'Tis she whose flowers begin to pine ; 
'Tis she who moans ; ah ! well she may, 
Her son lies there — sweet Robert Gra}^ 



80 ODES, &c. 

10. 
O he was beauteous as the lark 
In April singing o'er the lea ; 
And fearless as the stateliest bark 
A-dancing on a wintry sea ; . 
And kindly as a May-day lamb ; 
And sapient as its aged dam ! 

11. 
Yes he was fair ; — the rose's hue 
Was painted on his cheek of grace. 
I've seen the traveler stop to view 
The features of my Robert's face. — 
Men, maids, and matrons nam'd him fair, — 
And Robert with the flaxen hair. 



ODES, &C. 81 

12. 
Yes he was bold ; — he loved to hear 
Of Graeme, of Bruce, and Wallace wight. 
He moulded him a wooden spear, 
And fenc'd with all his little might ; 
And had he liv'd in Bruce's reign 
He'd been, he said, of Bruce's train. 

13. 
Yes he had pity ; — for whene'er 
The wand'ring beggar sued for bread 
I've seen him take, with lively cheer, 
The morsel from his own sweet head, 
And give it to the wretch, and say 
" I'll give thee more another day." 



82 ODES, &c. 

14. 
And oft the gift his mother gave 

To buy the apple or the plumb, 
Would little feeling Robert save 
To give unto the deaf or dumb. 
So many a prayer was rais'd in joy 
To heaven for my lamented boy. 

15. 

Yes he was wise ; — for he could tell 

From what were form'd the flakes of snow ;- 
The dews that deck the heather bell ; — 
And what invites the flowers to blow ; 
Could tell what reins direct the wind ; 
And who creates the immortal mind. 



ODES, &G. 83 



16. 

With him, in summer's tide, full oft 

I've stroird among the tedding hay, 
Or sought the lonely daisied croft 
Where we have laid us down to play, 
Or mould us little water-mills 
To place amid the mountain rills. 

17. 
With him I've wander'd oft at noon 

To distant, green, and dreaded dells, 

Where oft beneath the waning moon, 

As the kind grey-hair'd peasant tells, 

The fairies wont of yore to ply 

Their feet to elfin minstrelsy :— ~ 



84? ODES, &C. 

18. 

Or wander'd to the moorland's top, 
And mark'd the fields of heath in bloom; 
And joy'd to see the beauteous crop, 
And joy'd to feel its wild perfume, 

And mark the world beneath us lie 

A scene of mild sublimity. 

19. 
And often we have linger'd there 
Till sunset brought the twilight hours ; 
Yet still ere we would homeward fare 
We deck'd our heads with heather flowers;- 
With cana, primrose, mountain rue, 
And herbs of ev'ry healthy hue. 



ODES, &c. 85 

20. 
Amaz'd I've mark'd his eye -ball's fire 
Mid scenes mysterious and grand, 
O had he lived, the poet's lyre 
Had rung to his advent'rous hand ! — 
Had rung in strains so wild, so high 
As to outlive mortality. 

21. 
Full many a one has said to me, 
" O sir ! you stamp yourself a boy 
To sport with such a boy as he." 
Such sayings caus'd me no alloy : 
And would the heavens his life restore 
I'd act with him the boy once more. 



86 ODES, &c. 

22. 
The little children ceas'd to play 
Upon the night when Robert died ; 
And though three months have pass'd away 
Since then, they never play beside 
His mother's door, because their joy 
Might mind her more of her lov'd boy. 

23. 
And when the teacher of our town 
Would shame the truant boy to good 
He says, " thou little wayward clown, 
Fye ! thou hast nought of Robert's mood." 
Thus sham'd, I've heard that many a boy 
Has chang'd, and filfd his friends with joy. 



ODES, &c. S7 

24. 
And I have heard it said by some 
Who watch'd my Robert's dying bed, 
That once, when all with grief were dumb, 
Just after ev'ning prayers were said, 
The darling rose on his bed side 
And thus in rapt'rous accents cried : — 

25. 
" What glorious glorious sight I view ! 

? Tis three in one, and one in three ; 

And six tall men of fairest hue, 

In robes as white as white can be, 

And golden harps in ev'ry hand. 

— Friends ! mark ye not the princely band ! 



88 ODES, &c. 

26. 
u Now their golden harps they string ! 

Now they raise a rapt'rous tone ! 

Now they beckon ! now they sing ! 

Glorious band I am your own !" 

He ceas'd — anon he droop'd his head — 

His friends drew near — but he was dead. 

27. 
The three in one, and one in three 

— That sight so clear to Robert's eye, 

No other mortal eye could see; 

But all deem'd it the Trinity 

Come down from heaven, with heavenly care 

To watch a dying heavenly heir. 



ODES, &c. 89 



28. 
The six tall men of fairest hue 
Who sung and play'd melodiously, 
Were all encircled from the view 
Of healthful dull mortality ; 
But all believ'd them angels come 
To waft him to his heavenly home. 

29. 
There is a sense yet undefmd, 

A sense which spurns analysis, 

That burns within the poet's mind 

And bids him feel supremest bliss 

In things that others deem as vain, 

Or great, but to a madman's brain. 



90 ODES, &c. 

30. 
To him O man I the stars of Ev'n 

However small they seem to thee, 

Are hosts that guard the coasts of heaven ; 

To him the night's dark sky a sea, 

And each cloud seen thereon to rave 

A furious foaming angry wave. 

31. 
To him the lightning's bolt appears 
The wild artillery of God ; 
To him the rock it rends and sears 
A chief that keeps his first abode, 
And scorns, though pierc'd with many a scar, 
To fly the murd'rous shafts of war. 




ODES, &C. 91 

32. 
To him the down, the dell, the brake, 
The cairn, the grey sepulchral stone, 
The hill, the mount, the stream, the lake, 
The tempest's hush, the tempest's moan, 
Have speech your tongue can ne'er reveal— 
You ne'er have felt — and cannot feel. 

33. 
Then since mid ev'n unthinking things, 

Whence you no joy, nor pleasure find, 

The poet feels his bosom's strings 

Thrill bliss of such a heavenly kind ; 

O think how high his grief must be 

O'er thine in things would grieve ev'n thee ! 



92 ODES, &c» 

34. 
By many a one forgot, my child 
Is now as if he ne'er had been ; 
But never from this breast exil'd 
That sweet child's mem'ry shall be seen ; 
Still still this breast for Robert warms 
As when I clasp'd him in my arms. 



ODES. &c. S3 



THE SPEECH OF THE DYING INDIAN. 



The wide frowning forest untrodden by man, 
Where the scream of the condour convokes her divan ; 
The cloud-cleaving mountain, the red swelling lake, 
The fathomless swamp, nor the haunts of the snake 
Had virtue to dampen my spirit of flame, 
My courage chastise, my resentment to tame. — ■ 
The bears are at feast on your warriors' brains, 
And my limbs are bedrench'd in the blood of his veins. 



94? 0DES, &c. 

Ay, scoff ye ! — weak tort'rers ! securely ye wage 
A war with the congar enclos'd in his cage. 
How oft has he leapt from his thicket unseen, 
And besmear'd with destruction the cot-cover'd green! 
How oft when the yell from his bosom has broke 
You were scar'd, like the crow, to the cleft of the rock, 
Or unhous'd with the bears of the forest to roam; 
Ye fugitive slaves to the blessings of home! 

How oft in the morn, when with quiver and bow 
You hied to the wood to entangle the roe ; 
Instead of the cool of the fair cottage shade, 
Instead of the smile of the cherub-ey'd maid, 
The desolate hearth, and the fair cottage burning, 
And the wild dying yell have invok'd your returning 1 



ODES, &c. 95 

What lightning has blasted the fields of your maize ? 
What lightning has circled your homes in a blaze ? 
Why hide ye so oft in the shield of the brake ? 
Why skims so unfrequent the boat on the lake ? 
The source of destruction in bondage you see : — 
The source of your terror is center'd in me. 

My body is mangled, my eye-ball is dim, 
My arm it is shatter'd, and shrivelFd my limb ; 
But courage has fix'd her abode in my brain, 
I laugh at your tortures, I glory in pain. 

An hundred grim scalps are the guests of my hall, 

And an hundred grim spirits revengefully call, 

u Untutor'd to torture, untutor'd to kill, 

Give vengeance, O cowards ! give vengeance her fill! 



96 ODES, &c. 

Tear out his hot heart— let the goblet be crown'd, 

And banquet his blood in the circle around !" 

Ay haste ! — for the clans of my kindred arouse, 

This minute indignant they offer their vows, 

This minute the flame of the war-kettle's up, 

And the hoary-hair'd herald flies round with the cup ; 

For the dreams of the chief have a conquest foretold, 

And the rage of the wolf shall descend on the fold. 

This minute the yell of resentment is roaring, 

And the flaming-ey'dsons from their forests are pouring; 

The god Areouski is perch'd in the van, 

And the soul of the godhead transmits to the man ; 

The battle is on, and the quivers are clashing, 

The lightning of sword, and of tomahawk flashing ; 

Your infants are howling, your matrons are screaming, 

•Your fathers bed-rid, in their wigwams are dreaming 



odes, &c. '97 

While the columns of flame o'er their bodies are stream- 

in S — 

O glorious glorious day ! 

At the rage of resentment your brethren are quaking., 

They are fighting, are flying, are falling, are taken. 

" Destructionand bondage !" the cravens are crying^ 

" Destruction and bondage," the rocks are replying. 

Hoop ! conquest ! halloo ! hurra ! 

My limbs in the flame to a cinder decay, 
And my spirit abandons its dwelling of clay ; 
But far in the sky, o'er the waves of the west, 
Lo ! heaven discloses its cloud-cover'd breast ; 
I see it ! I see it ! the land of the blest — 
The maids with the dark flowing tresses appear, 
The flocks of the condour, the troops of the deer ; 
And the souls of the heroes invite me to come 
To their dwelling of air in eternity's home. 



98 ODES, &c. 



THE DESPERANT TO A FRIEND. 

1. 

O pour the wine ! O fill the cup ! 
I'll drink, and drink till reason sleep. 
O pour the wine ! O fill it up ! 
I'd bury thought — nay, never weep. 

2. 
Nay — never weep, nor muse, nor pause, 
Nor sneer, nor frown, nor knit the brow. 
And O ! may heaven ne'er give thee cause 
To loathe the past, as I do now. 



ODES, &c. 99 

Sure they are blest who never think, 
Who never feel, who never fear, 
Who do the deeds without a shrink 
Make men like me unhappy here ! 

4. 
Who hear unmov'd their conscience crave 

Redress for days far travell'd by ; 

Who view unmov'd, the rotting grave, 

And burning realms beyond that lie ! 

5. 

they are blest ! and I but strain 
To be like them while being breathes ; 

1 only seek from wine to gain 

The calm that Reason ne'er bequeaths. 



100 ODES, &C. 

6. 
For reason pond'ring on the past 
Still paints the woes she cannot cure ; 
And pointing, shews me at the last, 
The hell, ev'n thought can not endure. 

7. 
Nay never blame !— I struggled once 
To hold the path that virtue show'd ; 
And knew each tale that men advance 
To prove the sweets of duty's road. 

8. 
Then fill the cup if thou wouldst be 
A friend at all, for Oh ! I feel 
The pains that now encounter me 
Were never never meant to heal. 



ODES, &C. 101 

9. 

I do not ask the hand of death ; 
Yet that would bring the body ease. 
But then — that thing outliving breath — 
What tenfold pangs on that may seize ! 

10. 
I only seek to feel that weight 
Which chains the body, chains the soul ; 
Which drags them on in torpid state, 
As dead, yet under life's controul. 

11. 
That state from thought and action free — 

Too dead to dream — that but Can tell 
(O happy state !) that still we be 
The things of earth — not yet in hell. 



102 ODES, &c. 



THE SPLENETIC'S COMPLAINT. 

The spring returns, the trees revive and bud — 
The flow'rets rise — the infant lambkins play — 
The sportive trout leaps up, and cleaves the floods 
And nature smiles, earth, sea, and air, are gay ; 
Yes, nature lives, and smiles, but I decay ; — 
No joy for me returning seasons bring. 
Man tells that grief, like seasons, flies away ; 
But man in this declares a truthless thing, f 



ODES, &c. 103 

For mine remains ; and every coming spring, 
Ay, every hour, augments the load I bear. 
Now pain in me has fix'd so fierce a sting, 
So pointed to my tomb, and cried " prepare !" 
That O ! I almost wish my head were pillow'd there. 



104 ODES, &C. 



TO WAR. 

War ! gory war ! 

Hence, hence, O hence direct thy crimson car ! 

The lurid lightnings that precede thy march, 

The savage horror that enrobes thy form, 

The blood-ey'd snakes that on thy helmet perch, 

Thy deep voice bellowing like the thunder storm, 

War ! gory war ! 
Have banish'd lustre from my anxious eye. 
The shades of age's melancholy night 
O'ercloud my noon of youthful light ; 



ODES, &c. 105 

My thoughts that wont o'er earth and sea to roam, 

In fear's dull craven den lethargic lie ; 

My ears lose power ; 

The magazines of horror lower 

Above my quaking dome ; 

O war I O war ! thy furious steeds restrain, 

Nor turn, I pray ! I pray ! my terror-wilder'd brain. 

Son of Envy, Malice dark, 

And red Ambition, rav'ning shark ! 

The spring that decks the lea, — 

The summer's sun that throws 

The blossom on the tree, 

And on each pfein the rose, 

And rears the human race, 

Has offer'd tithe at thy red altar stone, 



106 ODES, &c. 

Since first beside the sunny gleam 

Of wide Havilah's glassy stream, 

Where first thy seed was sown, 

To yon blue vault, from earth's empurpled face, 

Arose the murder'd herdsman's dreary burden'd groan* 

O then the loosely-flitting rack 
Convolv'd in air grew deathy black ; 
The mild-ey'd Sun withdrew creative light; 
The paly comet's wildly -blazing train 
Portentously illum'd the early night ! 
The wide extent of circumambient main 
With troublous tossings rent his hollow bed, 
O'erleap'd the bounding barrier of the land, 
And throwing reins from his obdurate head, 
Scoop'd out that sea, with proud imperious hand, 



ODES, &c. 107 

Which now in South Columbia's eastern shore 
Affords a path for broad-keel'd fleets to pass ; 
And then these clust'ring isles, a fertile mass, 
Round which Atlanta's westmost waters roar, 
And those, that bosotn'd in the eastern wave 
Have form'd round Ceram's sides a spicy zone, 
Were from their parent continents rude thrown, 
Like sons from parents' sides, time's boist'rous storms 
to brave. 

Then lovely Pity, loving maid, 
Despite the apple of her streaming eye 
Enclosed in ether's fairest-polish'd blue ; 
Despite the magic melancholy shade 
That stretch'd across her face's sickly dye 
A pleasing grace which once so quickly drew 



108 ODES, &c. 

The libVal heart to wear her winning chain ; 
Despite the long debate in anxious pain 
She held with pearly eye and bended knee 
In the dark tents of Cain's poison'd reign, 
To calm the deep the wildly-troubled sea 
Of dark ideas in his breast that brew'd, 
And shed the balm of lovelier design 
To cool the fever in his raging blood, 
Was by the rudeness of the human spear 
Repaid with pain for all her friendly care, 
From man exil'd, and forc'd with brutes to join, 
Who prize her favours, and the mutual love 
That binds each member of each special kind 
To feed, and shield, and a protector prove 
To every member of its special clan ; 
And scorn that madness of the human mind, 



ODES, &c. 109 

Which urges man to bound life's little span 
And rage in gory deeds, alas ! with brother man. 

Why would'st thou not for ever dwell, 

O War ! beside thy native cell 

In yon green regions of the fertile east ? 

Was all the human harvest gathered there 

Too small, dread King ! to deck thy regal feast? 

Tho* blooming thousands there have borne the spear 5 

Have press'd around thy stamping courser's neigh, 

And spread with blind-ey'd rage their bosoms bare 

To meet for fame thy thirsting sateless sword ; 

Thy furious steeds have shap'd a bloody way 

Through ev'ry clime where beams the solar ray, 

And as they fly each nation hails thee Lord i 



110 ODES, &C. 

Backward as I cast mine eyes 
Through the mists of ancient years* 
Ha ! what hideous scenes arise ! 
Scenes of carnage, scenes of fears. 

O'er the dew-bespangled mead 

Now the snowy lambkins rove, 

Who the tender tribes shall shield ! 

For now adown the gloomy grove 

Instead of answ'ring Pan's Arcadian lute, 

Or sound of sweetly-soothing flute, 

Lone Echo trav'ling on the tuneful breeze, 

Has slack'd her pace, and dropt her cheering voice 

To catch, while winding through the qmVring trees, 

A nation-stunning noise, — 



ODES, &C. Ill 

To answer loud with sullen swell 

The startling trumpet's savage yell. 

The rusting plough neglected lies. 

To war ! to war ! the tongue of thousands cries ; 

To war ! to war ! lone Echo loud replies. 

A purple hem has girt around 

Fierce Grecia's blue horizon's bound ! 

And in the midst a purple cloud 

O'erhangs in dusky state her darken'd vales I 

Now it points its moving shroud ! 

Now it shifts ! now it sails ! 

Now it sets on Solon's halls, 

Now on Sparta's childrens' walls, 

And northward now it bears its varying flight ! 

A proud-brain'd youth, a youth of warlike might, 



112 ODES, &C. 

Has seen the wand'ring stranger seek his throne ! 
His eyes enamour'd, gaze with keen delight ; 
In rapture's voice he sues its bloody face ; 
Whene'er he strays at ev'ning's tide alone, 
Or sits enthron'd amid his warlike race, 
Its form dark-brooding o'er his plumy crown, 
Inspires new mounting hopes and thoughts before 
unknown. 

Ha ! the trumpet's rousing clangour 
Calls the fiery phalanx forth ! 
Forth it rolls in martial anger, 
Hardy lion of the north. 
Now the Granick's haughty flood 
Frets beneath its weighty tread ; 
Now the cloud of low'ring blood 



ODES, &C. 113 

Marshals on the red array, 

Till high surcharg'd, with lightning's speed, 

As near it views the haunted prey, 

It glooms, it opes, it bursts, it rolls amain 

A storm of screaming woe o'er Persia's trembling plain ! 

Now is all its fury spent ? 

Ha ! again its vapours roll ! 

Roll and mount with dire intent 

To stun another nation's soul. 

Its dreary pinions darken Oxus' wave, 

And scale the wall of hills that stretch their length 

Where Indus' stream and all his brethren rave ; 

The woodland king of wisdom-guided strength— 

Whose foot has shook the fertile plains 

Through which the rich Hydaspes glides, 



114? ODES, &C. 

Arous'd, deserts the shade with patriot fire, 
And bends his neck to wear inglorious chains ; 
High on his back the deathy castle rides, 
And countless warriors warm with martial ire ; 
But vain the castles, vain the forces, 
Darts and elephants and horses ; 
The red cloud bursts, the shivering natives fly; 
And cold in death what mounds of carnage lie, 
To bleach the bone beneath the sun-infurnac'd sky ! 

Ha ! beside the Tiber's shore 

I see a vulture tribe arise ! 

Loud to thee its prayers pour, 

Ebng it sues with anxious eyes. 

The murd'rous Macedonian king 

Has sunk in dust with those that were ; 



ODES, &C. 115 



And now away I see thee wing 
To grant the barb'rous Roman prayer. 
All kiss thy gory hand : 
All kiss thy gory face : 
Command, O war ! command I 
Loud yells the thirsty race. 
At ev'ry aim thy faulchion takes 
A monarch sinks beneath its steel : 
At ev'ry leap thy chariot makes 
A nation sinks beneath its wheel. 
Thy speed is like the lightning's floods 
Thy path is o'er the skulls of men, 
Thy bev'rage is the reeking blood, 
Thy ruth, the tiger's in his den* 



116 ODES, &C. 

Thy laughter is the Briton's tear. 
Thy music is the German's sigh. 
Thy holiday is Asia's fear, 
Thy pride is Africk's misery. 

u By blood the man of blood shall die!" 

Prepare for fate, thou vulture Rome ! 

Why hear, O war ! a northern nation's call ? 

Why league to seal thy late-lov'd dwelling's doom ? 

Behind thy chariot in arms 

I see the barb'rous tribes in arms : 

Their number is the ocean's sands ; 

Their wrath is like the locust's bands ; 

Their ravage like the mildew's rage 

Their food is infancy and age. 



ODES, &C. 117 

But O ! so fast before my eyes 

The scenes of carnage and blood arise ; 

The rage of the Goth, of the Saracen, 

Of the red-cross flag on Judea's plain> 

And of Christians beyond the far western main, 

That my sight is sick with the bloody show. 

Away, away ye scenes of woe ! 

What powerful spell o'errules my brain ? 

What spell commands to look again ? — 

A city arises, a city most bright, 

O balm to the heart ! O balm to the sight ! 

The noble street, and the flower-blooming square^- 

The tower, the dome, and the spire are there. 

The morning sun has drunk up the dew ; 

The breeze is mild, and the heaven is blue. 



118 ODES, &C. 

The school-boy has ceas'd from his task for a day ; 

He claps his hands, and he joins the play. 

The windows are spangled with branches and flowers, 

And the blaze of the bonefire delightfully towers ; 

The flags from the tops of the steeples fly, 

And the roar of the cannon salutes the sky ; 

And all from the lord to the begging boy 

Have ceas'd from their toil and give reins to joy ; 

For the shine of a holiday gifts them with leisure, 

And the voice of a monarch invites them to pleasure.. 

A pinnace is rocking within the bay, 

How sweet on its deck does the music play I 

The lord and the dame with the flowing hair 

Plac'd side by side are a-list'ning there. 

I see a youth and a plighted maid 

That have hied them away to an arbour's shade ! 



ODES, &C. 119 

One hand has her tender hand embrac'd, 

And one is around her lovely waist ; 

I see the look of the speaking eye ! 

I hear the breath of the heart-felt sigh ! 

They talk of the days that yet shall be — 

Of the little one playing around the knee. — 

All, all I see give a loose to joy 

From the king on the throne to the begging boy. 

The scene is sweet, and the scene shall last. 

Ha ! ha ! to the northward the sky is o'ercast ; 

A cloud of dark dust is careering on ; 

It comes — what light through the cloud is shone ? 

Heavens ! heavens ! O heavens ! the light of spears* 

The en'my ! I see them ! the en'my appears. 

I hear the clang of a thousand heels ! 

I hear the clang of a thousand wheels ! 



120 ODES, &c. 

I see the sides of the courser reek ! 

I see the wrath of the rider's cheek ! 

The cannons are roaring, the steeples are fallings 

The priesthood to heaven for mercy is calling. 

It calls to heaven, but it calls in vain, 

For the priest is butcher'd beside the fane ; 

The shuddering spouse from her husband is torn, 

The cries of the maiden are laughed to scorn, 

The father is sent to a gory tomb, 

And the babe is ript from its mother's womb. 

I see a wretch with a fiendish stare 

Entwine his rude hands in a maiden's hair ; 

Her father and mother are standing by, 

And they raise to the caitiff the rending cry ; 

But his ear is deaf, and he rears his sword ; 

The stroke is drawn, and her breast is gor'd ; 



ODES, &C. 121 

Her parents sink down by her blood-streaming clay — < 

The morrow was fix'd for her bridal day. 

The coursers are found'ring in carnage and gore; 

The smoke is up and I see no more, 

But still I hear the cannon's roar ; 

And mingled with that I hear the cry 

Of deep despair and of victory ; 

The sound of the drum, and the trumpet's swell, 

The dying groan and the dying yell ; — 

The last dread yell of the souls that fly 

To their dwellings in eternity. 

Three months are past, and I gaze again 

On the city that once was the pride of the plain ; 

But, Oh ! how chang'd, how chang'd the scene ! — - 

H 



122 ODES, &c. 

The wells are chok'd with the copious weed, 
And they nurse the newt with her venom' d breed ; 
The grass grows green in the market-place, 
And the nauseous nettles are rising apace ; — 
These nettles are rear'd from the blood of the maid, 
Of the matron, the child, and the hoary head ; 
And the toad, the snake, and the slow-worm fare. 
And merrily fix their dwellings there* 

Four hungry crows arise from a rock 

With flap and with croak, with flap and with croak, 

For they are allur'd by a noble scent ; 

Their rapid course through the air is bent 

Most straight to the site of the pillag'd town : 

They have ended their course, they have lighted down— 



ODES, &c. 123 

Four beaks have div'd in four green yellow eyes,— 
And four empty sockets mine eye espies ; — 
They have div'd again, and four eyes are gone, 
And eight empty sockets I gaze upon. 
Each picks a breast, and it picks, I ween, 
Till four black wither'd hearts are seen ; 
Each picks a face, and each picks and pulls, 
Till no faces are seen — but four brainless skulls. 
The fare is good — but far remov'd 
Is the rock from whence the vultures have rov'd ; 
The fare is good — and the store of prey 
May supply them with food for many a day : 
So they tear the long hair from the virgin's head, 
And it lines them a nest in a neighb'ring shed, 
Where they live to share with the ravening corps 
In the carnival feast, till the feast be o'er. 



124 ODES, &C. 

A wolf has eome from a distant hill, — 
Rapacious his mouth — more rapacious his will ; 
But his limbs are swift, and his heart is brave, 
And his strength can take what his will would have. 
No dainty taste for beauteous messes 
For fresh or for rich that wolf possesses ; 
But the brain or the breast, the arm or the limb, 
The young and the old are the same to him. 
And still when he needs some portion of leisure 
From gnawing away at his hoarded treasure, 
He hies him away through street and through lane, 
Through broken window and broken pane, 
And ev'ry dark corner I see him explore 
In search of prey, to increase his store. 
His messmate rears her prowling brood 
On the spot where the bed of a monarch stood. 



ODES, &C. 125 

His larder is kept in the very hall 

Where the Emp'ror and Empress directed the ball ;— 

Where the warlike chief with a gallant's flame 

Led down the dance with the blue-ey'd dame ;— • 

Where the golden-fram'd mirror was wont to shine, 

And the goblet was grac'd with the soul-giving wine. 

That larder is heap'd with shreds of the old 

And of those whose names no priest has told ; 

And some of these shreds are shrivell'd and grey, 

And some are pale as the palest clay ; 

And some are yellow, and some are green, 

And some are lusty, and some are lean ; 

But the shrivelFd, the grey, pale, or yellow limb, 

Green, lusty or lean, are alike to him. 

He feasts on the son, he feasts on the father, 

And the beggar and lord, at a meal together. 



126 ODES, &c. 

I see a corse where the maggots are creeping., 
I see a corse where the flies are leaping ; 
I see a corse so shrivell'd and dry 
That the flies pass by it most scornfully* 

Ha ! fiendish war ! 

Hence, hence, O hence direct thy gory car ! 

The lurid lightnings that precede thy march, 

The savage horror that enrobes thy form, 

The blood-ey'd snakes that on thy helmet perch, 

Thy deep voice bellowing like the thunder storm, 

Thy scenes of carnage and of cruelty, 

War ! fiendish war ! 
Have banish'd lustre from my anxious eye : 
The shades of age's melancholy night 
O'ercloud my noon of youthful light ; 



0DES, &c. 127 

My thoughts that wont o'er earth and sea to roam 

In fear's dull craven den lethargic He ; 

My ears lose power, 

The magazines of horror lower 

Above my quaking dome ; — 

Yet, yet, O yet thy furious steeds restrain, 

Nor turn, I pray, I pray, my terror-wilder'd brain ! 



FINIS. 



Printed by Walker and Greig^ 
Edinburgh. 



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